SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT UNDER A WEEPING MAGNOLIA:
SHOTGUN’S HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL STUNNER

Now playing with an extended run in Berkeley, Shotgun Players’ Magnolia Ballet by Terry Best is the best thing I’ve seen all summer. A Southern gothic tale infused with poetry, music, and dance, this rich, genre-blending story speaks urgently to our divided political climate—offering a haunting and timely meditation on generational trauma, masculinity, and queer identity; the backdrop of the story involves generations of curses manifesting in racism. Though steeped in ghosts of the past, it couldn’t feel more of the moment.

Jaiden Griffin and Nicholas René Rodriguez

Nicholas René Rodriguez and Jaiden Griffin

This is no traditional ballet. Set in present-day Georgia, the play follows 17-year-old Ezekial Mitchell—“Z” for short—played with fierce emotional clarity by Jaiden Griffin. Z is a smart, sensitive Black teenager living with his father in a rural backwater near the bayou. A towering magnolia tree, its branches always swaying and releasing a sweet, inescapable scent, presides over his world like an ancient, breathing witness (as if also bearing witness, some audience members are seated on stage). Z spends most of his time outside, often with his best friend since childhood, Danny (Nicholas René Rodriguez), who is white, but as with most childhood friends the boys don’t seem to see color. The two share a deep, intimate bond—one that has begun to tip into something more.

Jaiden Griffin (seated), Drew Watkins, and Devin A. Cunningham (above)

Z’s father, Ezekiel Mitchell V, and Danny’s father, an officer with the same surname of Mitchell (both played by Drew Watkins), have known each other since childhood as well—but they are anything but friends. Ezekiel V is stoic and wounded, emotionally distant and weighed down by the legacy of racism; he has very clear and longstanding memories of being called “nigger” and other slurs. Officer Mitchell sees himself as a proud public servant, a man who keeps his town “safe,” blind to his white privilege and its impact. Flashbacks and memories paint a vivid picture of the forces shaping both fathers and sons.

Drew Watkins and Jaiden Griffin 

Hovering over it all is the ghost of Ezekiel IV (Devin A. Cunningham), a spectral figure who floats through the piece offering wisdom, levity, and a generational echo of pain. It is he who reminds the living that only tenderness and love can interrupt the violent cycles they’ve inherited. And yet, like his father before him, Ezekiel V cannot bring himself to offer that tenderness to his son. Instead, Z finds it in Danny—until Danny’s own internalized shame curdles into fear and eventually, violence.

Drew Watkins and Jaiden Griffin

Told through a swirl of shifting scenes—like chapters in a novel—Magnolia Ballet weaves together ghost story, love story, and coming-of-age tragedy. For 100 minutes, not a single scene feels extraneous. Every moment builds suspense and intimacy, right up to the show’s shocking conclusion.

Drew Watkins and Nicholas René Rodriguez

No spoilers, but other characters make an appearance as well. All four performers deliver deeply felt performances. Mr. Griffin as Z is especially remarkable, communicating joy, fear, and longing not just through dialogue but with his full body—his movement, posture, and stillness often say more than words. Mr. Watkins fully distinguishes the two fathers: as Ezekiel V, he simmers with unspoken rage; as Officer Mitchell, he exudes easy confidence and paternal warmth, a mask over an entrenched worldview. Mr. Rodriguez’s Danny is heartbreakingly complex—a carefree teen who lashes out in the face of feelings he can’t understand. And Mr. Cunningham’s ghost is a needed balm of levity—gentle, but with gravitas.

Jaiden Griffin, Devin A. Cunningham, Drew Watkins

Director and choreographer Aejay Antonis Marquis keeps the pacing tight, the movement expressive, and the story crystal clear, despite its many layers. Imaginative scenic designer Imani Wilson transforms the small stage into a striking Southern landscape—complete with Confederate flags, old crates, and the ever-present magnolia tree. Lighting designer Michael D. Combs adds atmosphere and emotional tone, shifting us between day, night, and memory, even evoking the flicker of firelight as the past comes to life.

Jaiden Griffin, Drew Watkins

Playwright Terry Guest’s script has rightly earned accolades, including the NNPN Best American Play Award.  doesn’t offer easy answers, but it does suggest that even the deepest wounds—those passed down from generation to generation—can begin to heal through love, connection, and unflinching honesty.